


Patrick's Pizzas

by Summertime_Poet



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: AU, Fluff, M/M, Peterick, fall out boy - Freeform, pizzas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-05 14:25:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Summertime_Poet/pseuds/Summertime_Poet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So this is part one of three of my Peterick AU, "Patrick's Pizzas". The title and the story itself are inspired by Pete talking about Patrick once ordering pizzas for fans earlier this year and saying "Patrick's Pizzas" at some point (around 1:22) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HaWpOQuha-Q .<br/>Anyways- as we all know, Pete loves pizzas. And this is how the story goes: </p><p>Pete finds himself home alone for three weeks as his mother is on a vacation and his father fled to a friend until she is back after one of Pete's attempts of cooking dinner failed immensely. So Pete decides to solve his problem with how to get dinner until then by trying out the delivery service of the town's recently opened pizzeria, "Donnie's Pizzeria". He gets his cheese pizza delivered by an adorable guy called Patrick Stump, who just started working this job. But Patrick is more than just your average pizza deliverer- he is also a true, caring friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

PATRICK’S PIZZAS

“No, Mom! I will not cook again until you’re back from your vacation. ... Although this time it was really just an acci- Yes, I know. I already thanked him a hundred times for calling the firemen in time, just when he returned home. ... Where dad is now? Well, you know he’s not that a passionate cook either... He fled to James after Tuesday. And he’s probably gonna stay there for dinner for the next three weeks, too. Yeah. I gonna water the flowers soon. ... Okay. Today then. Yeah- today. Got it. Don’t ya worry. ... Yeah. All in all, I’m fine. You’ve been gone for only four days now- No, really! I get along with this. ... Jeez, mom! Stop reminding me of Dani. ... Yep. I also heard she’d marry in a few weeks. Who told you- ... Oh. Of course. Macy. ... Yeah. ... Uh, mom? I gotta go. Hemmingway wants to... ... Yeah. Yeah. Love you, too! Have fun! ... I will! Bye!”  
The phone made a beep signal when he ended the call by pressing the red button and a relieved sigh escaped his mouth. 

Pete really hadn’t planned on burning down the stove when he had tried to bake an apfelstrudel for lunch. Damn it. He had only been too distracted by the music he had been listening to and the new lyrics he had been working on. But yeah. It had been his very own fault. And it could happen anytime again. ... And probably would, if he didn’t stop trying to cook and instead searched for a three-week-alternative soon.  
 _“Grrrrrrrrrrh!”_ Pretty soon. _“Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrh!!!”_ Very soon. Pete sighed once more. So... What were his alternatives? He scratched his chin and then reached for the green, white and red flyer lying next to the telephone set. He had taken it out of the mailbox together with this morning’s post and instantly put it down there. _“Donnie’s Pizzeria”_ \- this one seemed new to him. He quickly decided he’d just try out their service today- they’d probably offer pizza with extra much cheese, right? ... Right!  
He picked up the phone again and dialed the number imprinted on the flyer. 

“”Donnie’s Pizzeria”?” “Hey, uhm... I’d like to order a big cheese pizza.” “... Okay. Anything else?” ...

About thirty-five minutes later, the Wentz’ doorbell rang and when Pete noticed that his pizza had arrived, his tummy directly started to grumble again. He jumped up and ran down the stairs. He opened the door with way too much élan and it literally flung open.  
“Yeah?” A happy grin was on his face.

“Your pizza, Sir!” The young man with strawberry golden hair, holding the pizza box with both of his hands smiled at him politely.  
 _“How can someone have such a cute face, be such a total human cutie pie?!”_  
Patrick’s, with his innocent mind, had no idea of what was going on in the other one’s head. Mr. Pete Wentz’ big pizza with extra much cheese was one of the first delivers he did for his new (and, to be perfectly honest, first) job at “Donnie’s Pizzeria”. Donnie was a far relative of his mother and she also had helped him to get this job. _“You’re a good coo, sweetie! You’ll have a lot of fun with Donnie and the others!”_ Donnie had just opened his second pizzeria, the one Patrick was working at now, and had employed six pizza bakers already when Patrick joined them, so the nineteen year old ended up starting with delivering the ordered pizzas. Not that he did mind a lot about this, actually. He was happy enough about doing something after all. And bringing other people their food they are waiting for impatiently was also a nice occupation. Maybe it’d even help him to get over his slight social awkwardness, as he used to call it. He simply didn’t consider himself being a person really safe when it came to small talk, even though it had gotten better over the past few years. So yeah... Pizza deliverer.

Pete then lowered his gaze at Patrick’s name tag. Patrick himself didn’t really know why he had to wear it, but he guessed his uncle only found them too fancy to not have his employees wear them, so even the pizza bakers who never left the pizzeria during the work time wore them.  
“Thanks a lot... Patrick.” He smiled his widest of smiles, in the hope it wouldn’t look too creepy to his opponent and held up a finger. “Wait a sec, please!” He then ran inside and only a few seconds later stood in front of the small man again. He had a ten dollar note in his right hand and gently took the pizza box out of Patrick’s hands. The ten dollar note ended up in Patrick’s right hand without that the really noticed how this had happened. He was too much intrigued by the black haired man’s eyes. _Is this guy seriously wearing make-up?!_ Not that he really minded. Mr. Wentz could for sure wear this. It looked good on him. Pretty good, actually.

“Uh?” “Take the two dollar as a tip for having been so fast with my order!” “Oh- okay! Thank you!” He shyly looked up and smiled at Pete. “Uhm, bye!” “Yeah, see you!” Pete waved as the small pizza deliverer walked down the way through the Wentz’ lawn towards the street, where a red and white bicycle was leaned against the curb. He didn’t see the other one blush a little bit, but he didn’t need to see it to have a great feeling about him. A very great one, actually. 

Patrick swung on his bicycle and began pedaling. He really liked his new job, but he still feared he was a little to unsure about new people. Even if they seemed to be very nice. And handsome.  
Okay then... Next he had to deliver a family pizza to the Smiths. 

Pete closed the door and sat down at the kitchen table. He folded up the lid of the box and took a deep smell. “Aaaaah!” The warmth of the freshly baked pizza gently stroked his face’s skin. He only stood up one more time for taking a plate out of the shelf. A glance to his left and the black spot at the end of the wall he looked at reminded him of the awful kitchen incident two days ago. He shook his head. Nope, he would not cook again. Not anytime soon. Instead, he would now enjoy this tasty-looking pizza with extra much cheese. “Yummy!”

 

\--- 

 

Pete had slept very well that night. He even remembered his dream- for the first time since an eternity. He didn’t even have a nightmare like the ones that had tortured him for months now. He would always wake up sweating and with the wish of dying on the top of his tongue. He used to lick his lips all these mornings, sweeping over his forehead with the back of his hand, breathing in deeply. But now... Wow. No nightmare after all this time. And his dream now had been sweet. Well... Rather cheesy. But in the literal sense. He had been in the park, eating the big cheese pizza he had had for lunch. Together with no one else but Patrick. It had been early spring, just like it was now, but it hadn’t mattered to them. The two of them had just been happily eating their pizza. Oh man...

At nine he was done in the bathroom. He had especially taken care of making the eyeliner look good on him; he even put it on when he was alone at home; however, he usually didn’t pay too much attention to how it looked like. He tried to keep himself busy all morning- wiping the parquet of the living room and polishing the stairs up to his room. Around half past ten the phone ringed. His mom. She wanted to reassure that he would not cook today. “Yeah, mom! ... Yeah, I’ll find some alternatives until you’re back! ... No really, don’t worry. No. You don’t have to ask Peggy... No, it’s okay, really. Yep. ... How are you doing, by the way? Have fun, yeah? You don’t have to check on me every day. I’m feeling really honored by knowing that you care about me that much, but you really don’t have to worry so much! I have a huge piece of paper saying “Don’t try cooking here anytime soon!!!” lying on the ashes of the still not replaced, burnt down stove. ... No. Seriously. ... Haha. Yeah. Love ya! Bye!”

Around quarter past twelve he started thinking about where he should order his lunch today. There was this nice Café that also sold nice “apfelstrudel-to-go” according to his friend Joe... Maybe he would just... Hmm... Maybe this afternoon... Sometime soon. But for now... He felt like having another pizza today, so he picked up the piece of paper with the number of “Donnie’s Pizzeria” on it and ordered a Hawaiian pizza. With extra much cheese. 

The doorbell rang no thirty minutes later. Pete opened the door and found... A pizza box- held by someone of the same size as yesterday’s pizza deliverer, only some centimeters taller due to a trucker cap on that person’s head. He couldn’t see who it was at first, as he looked down on the person, who stood on the second-last step to the Wentz’ house. “Hi! Here’s the Hawaiian pizza you ordered, Mr. Wentz, Sir.”  
A pair of gray... green... murky green eyes appeared from under the trucker cap and caused a smile to spread on Pete’s face. “Thank you!” This time he had already got the ten dollar bill before opening the front door. But he took a little more time than he would have needed for getting it out of his back pocket. He handed it to Patrick and in return received the warm box holding his lunch. “And- how was yesterday’s pizza with extra much cheese?” Patrick knew that that most people liked “Donnie’s pizzas”, but one never knew, right? Therefor he avoided asking how someone “liked” something he had delivered them the next time they saw them and only asked them politely what they thought about it- if he even found enough courage to do so.  
“It was fantastic!” Pete exclaimed and made the young man in front of him turn pink. Patrick for sure was aware of people who loved pizza more than any other food, but this simple statement of Mr. Wentz was just so... sincere and not a little exaggerated. His gaze was fixed on the ground when he giggled shyly. He eventually looked up again and grinned: “But I understand you there. Cheese pizza is one of my favorite foods, as well.” “One of your favorite foods?! ... Man... Have you ever tried your own cheese pizzas?!” Patrick turned bright red now. “Oh- sorry! I didn’t mean to... I mean... I shouldn’t talk to you like this and-“ “Haha, it’s all fine!” The nineteen year old had finally managed to find back his voice he already feared to have lost after the other man’s sudden outburst of praise for their pizzas. He winked, inwardly wincing because he had totally not planned doing this. 

“Holy smokes! ... You only had one of our pizzas so far! Jeez...!” “Name is Pete, but I’m fine with this one, too!” Pete chuckled and almost lost his grip on the pizza box. Patrick nodded. “’kay, “my lord”. I...” He checked his watch and looked up again. “Gotta hurry back now! I really don’t wanna get in trouble because of coming late! ... Plus, you should eat your pizza soon, before it turns cold!” He lightly touched his cap then and Pete replied by waving his hand before he slowly closed the front door. He was still closing it when Patrick got on his bicycle and began pedaling down the road, in the direction that probably led to the pizzeria or another customer. 

_Pete! What a nice name!_

\--

Pete ordered pizza again the next day. And the day after. And the rest of the week, too. It was always Patrick who brought him his pizza. On Saturday he even ordered a small pizza in the evening. On Tuesday - one week after he had burnt down the stove - he started to wonder when he’d be through the pizzeria’s entire menu if he’d go on like this. He had made trying out every pizza on the pizzeria’s menu his new aim a few nights ago. That way he could order pizzas every day until his mom would be back. And even after her return there should still a variety of orders left. 

On Wednesday the sky was cloudy and dreary. Pete didn’t feel like doing anything and he wasn’t even in the mood for talking to his mother when she called him just after he had ordered his daily pizza. “Pete, honey! Why are you so quiet today? Isn’t there anything you’d like to talk about? I mean... We spoke each other for the last time almost a week ago and so, so much happened here! ... Did you, for example, work on some new lyrics? ... ... Honey?” A sigh – the tenth within the seven minutes the phone call had already lasted – was the only reply she got. “Honey- what is it? Did you have an argument with dad? He didn’t mention anything when I called him yesterday, but if you feel the urge to talk to somebody, you know you can always talk to me about it!” As though he had no one else to talk to about potential family problems. But no... It wasn’t even anything family related that made him so absentminded. He really couldn’t explain what it was. His mind was just all white and fluffy, if he would have had to find some words for describing the way he felt. He sighed again.  
“Were you thinking about Dani again? Because of her wedding on Valentine’s Day?” “...Hm? What?!”  
“... Uh. Hadn’t you heard that they antedated the wedding yet? Gina told me about it on Saturday. ... Oh dear lord, I’m so sorry, Pete, my dear!” Pete sighed. He was shaking a little right now, even though he wasn’t freezing. Oh man, this had been unexpected news. “I-It’s okay, mom. Really, I don’t really care that much about my ex marrying one of my childhood friends. ... No, seriously. I’m all cool with this.” Sigh. “... Okay. ... I guess, I’ll call you back tomorrow then?” When she didn’t get a reply she added a “Love you, sweetie” and hung up. She was honestly worried, Pete wasn’t angry on his mother. It wasn’t her fault that some of their conversations ended up so awkward. And this one... He had already felt a little unwell before she had called. The mentioning of Dani and her and Luke’s wedding had only added to his state of mind. He put aside the telephone and walked up to the living room’s door. Another sigh escaped his lips when he let himself slide down the wall and closed his eyes. He couldn’t help that nauseous feeling that was coming up in him and made him feel as though someone had punched him in the stomach. Tiny pearls of sweat started to form on his forehead and his hands began trembling even worse. 

He wouldn’t have been able to tell how much time had passed until the doorbell startled him up and make him shake even worse for some seconds. He fought his way up onto his feet, shaking and using his hands to brace himself against the wall. Pete hadn’t felt _that_ weak in a long time.  
“H-h-hi!” He opened the door and directly obtained a glance full of worry that Patrick, holding today’s pizza box, shot at him. “Are you alright, Pete?” They had quickly got used to being on first name terms with each other over the past days. Pete had even told the other one about his plan of testing all the pizzas “Donnie’s Pizzeria” offered. Of course not, that he also enjoyed the idea of getting to see the man with the strawberry-golden hair every single day. The latter didn’t even wait for a reply. “Go. Come on- go!” He made a gesture that could be interpreted as to ask Pete to go back inside. Pete didn’t move at first, only continued shaking and staring at some undefined spot behind his pizza deliverer. Who then decided to take Pete’s hand from the door frame and carefully guide his daily pizza orderer inside. He closed the door behind them and they passed the kitchen table, where Patrick quickly put down the pizza, before continuing guiding Pete... _Uh? Where was he actually guiding him?_

“Listen, Pete... Where’s-“ He stopped walking and so did the other one in effect, as well. He stepped around the black haired man and lifted his head, that by now had almost sunk onto his chest, and saw a pale face, even paler than a ghost, gazing at him. Through him. It literally sent shivers down Patrick’s spine and he placed a hand on Pete’s temple for finding his fears confirmed. Pete definitely needed a doctor, medicine and a bed to lie down on. “Where... Where is your... room?” A slight, almost not noticeable nod of the head was all he got as answer. “Hmm?” “’pstairsssss”, was the breathed reply. “... Okay. Come on then. Let’s do this!” Patrick took one of Pete’s arms and swung it over his shoulder. Then he put his own arm around Pete – who looked like a ghost- with perfect black circles of make-up around its eyes – and started helping him walk upstairs. 

 

They needed several minutes for struggling their way upstairs. Patrick tried his best to protect the other one form accidentally falling back down the stairs by holding Pete’s elbow with his left hand and his waist from behind with his right arm. Slowly, slowly, slowly. Just not tripping over a stair. When they finally reached the top stair, the pizza deliverer looked to around, trying to figure out whether the door to the left or the door to the right was the entrance to Pete’s room. Then he noticed the small stairway that seemed to lead up to another room, the attic of the house. “Up there...?” Pete nodded weakly and, all of a sudden, pressed his hands to his tummy. His face had turned alarmingly greenish and his trembling had become even worse. “Shall we return downstairs? ... Is there a bathroom on this floor?” Pete moved his head in a way that could be interpreted as a “Yes” and took the decision of which room it was from him by swiftly stumbling towards the left door, pulling it open and then remaining motionless hunched over a sink half a meter behind the door frame. Patrick heard him coughing and rushed after him; his trucker cap fell to the floor but he didn’t mind. There he stood, his arm carefully placed around Pete’s waist and talking to him in a calm voice, although he was feeling pretty helpless and overwhelmed by... everything. By his sick costumer, who he had somehow become friends within a very short time, by the feelings that putting his arm around him caused inside of him (some warm, tickling feeling that filled him from the toes to the hat... head and made him happy) and the weirdness of the situation in general. 

After almost a quarter of an hour, that they spent mainly standing in front of the sink, not doing anything else but waiting for Pete’s stomach to settle, they finally started their way towards the second pair of stairs. They eventually had made their way up to his room, where Patrick directly guided him towards the bed. Before the other, still hunched over one could lie down on it, the younger man had to clear the bed from a bunch of CDs and magazines, as well as a piece of paper filled with doodles. 

And some words. Did he write... poems or lyrics? Patrick wondered. Well, even if he did- this didn’t matter now. He placed a hand at Pete’s back and another one on his side and helped to slowly lie down. Pete looked as pale and fragile in his arms as though he could break when Patrick let go of him too early. The black haired man curled up into an embryo-like posture and continued shaking. The younger other one looked around- a little helpless. He searched the room for a blanket, another one than the one his friend lay on. He had already looked for something to cover Pete with for about seven to ten minutes when his gaze met a bright red hoodie. How could he have not noticed it before?! He picked it up from the desk chair it had been thrown on- it did neither look nor smell (yeah, if he was honest he quickly smelled at it. ... But rather for taking a deep breath of Pete’s smell. He had expected a smell of... coffee and... well, pizza, but he “only” found the red piece of clothing smelling a herb tea... with orange. And a little bit vanilla. Patrick had always had a fine nose.), nor did it look worn, so he decided to gently put it on top of Pete, who for sure wouldn’t be able to pull it over his head in the condition he was at the very moment. He stepped closer to the bed where the other one had fallen into a restless half-sleep and stretched out the hoodie over him. “Sweet dreams!” He whispered. All of a sudden and although he was still caught in his dreams, Pete reached up, made a munching noise like little kids use to do sometimes when they’re eating something especially tasty and, with a soft grip, pulled on Patrick’s sleeve. Patrick, totally not expecting this, gasped faintly and didn’t dare to move away from his current spot in front of Pete’s bed, still slightly leaned over the other. He still had a hand on the hoodie he had tried to wrap him up in and tried to decide what to do next. A checking of his watch told him that it was already two p.m. - and he had made his way over here after delivering another order around one p.m.. Hmm. He would have his lunch break in about thirty minutes. ... So- should he stay? ... Pete obviously didn’t feel well at all- he couldn’t just leave him alone like this. Donnie would understand this, right? ... Ah, holy smokes! He hated himself for it, but he really couldn’t skip work. He would feel just as awful in the end as he would if he left his friend alone.

He carefully managed to get Pete’s hand off his sleeve and quietly walked downstairs. He passed the kitchen table when a thought struck him and he quickly turned around for going towards the telephone lying on the edge of the kitchen table. He hesitated, but then considered that it was the best he could do now. His fingers moved swiftly over the telephone keypad as he dialed Donnie’s private phone number.  
“Hello?” “Hi Donnie! ... It’s me, Patrick! ... Uhm- I have to ask you for a favor. ... Could I already take my lunch break _now_? I’ll of course work longer tomorrow for compensating the time I didn’t work today!” “Patrick- no need to worry, buddy.” Patrick felt weird about being called that- everyone at the pizzeria treated him so friendly- like a part of a large family. It still made him feel uncomfortable sometimes... “What’s the matter? Did anything happen or do you just wanna take advantage of the good weather and go for a walk?” Patrick could almost hear his sincere smile through the telephone handset. “Nah, it’s just that... A very good friend of mine became sick out of nowhere and I feel like I should take care of him a little longer and accompany him to a doctor if he won’t feel better by the time he wakes up again... I’ll try to come back as soon as possible, though!” “Just take all the time you need, Patrick. It’s fine when you’re coming back later- I’d just ask my son Daniel to step in in case we get too many orders to deliver them without you. But it’s already after most people’s lunch time, so don’t worry too much, yeah?” He nodded as though his boss could notice it the way he noticed Donnie’s friendly smile. “Okay.” Patrick took a deep breath and silently let the air escape his mouth. “Thank you so much! If something happens that you should know about, I’ll let you know as soon as possible!” 

After the conversation that hadn’t lasted longer than five minutes, the blonde haired man made his way upstairs and opened the door to Pete’s room as quietly as possible, hoping not to wake him up. When he entered the room he saw that within the few minutes he had been gone Pete had managed to twist the hoodie in such a weird way that it might become dangerous if he moved a little more soon. The sleeve had slung around his neck and his waist and Patrick worriedly rushed towards him for disentangling him and the piece of clothing. Just when he was done, barely having moved his hands for not causing the other one to wince or somehow else make him move in his sleep, a touch made him startle. He noticed Pete’s touch on his forearm and smiled at the calm face directly below him. _He calmed down! That’s great!_ He tucked a strand of hair that poked the Pete’s eyelids behind the other one’s ear and was happy for him to apparently get better. Then the touch on his arm made him shift his gaze again and without really having thought about this in advance, he found himself lying next to his black-haired friend on a bed that seemed to be quite some years old, judged according to the noises it made when he sat down on its edge. 

No twenty minutes later – that he spent only looking at Pete, taking in the picture of the now sleeping totally peacefully, small punkish guy and admiring him for the way he made make-up look good on a guy – he had his arms tenderly slung around the other man, whose head leaned on his chest now, and his own head protectively lying with his chin on Pete’s head. “My little spoon, hmmm...?” He smiled at his sleeping friend and lightly rubbed his chin over the other one’s messy hair. “Get better soon.” He placed a hand on Pete’s forehead- it had begun to cool down. Only a little, but it gave him hope that the other one would get better soon. 

When he awoke, Pete was still asleep. To his surprise, he found himself in Pete’s arms. They must have swapped positions while they slept. _Or had Pete maybe awoken once...?_ Well, now the late afternoon light shone through the attic window and the air was all warmed up and sticky. Patrick checked the temperature of Pete’s forehead for another time- it seemed cooler already. He should probably stay in bed for one or two more days anyway, just for making sure that he’d really feel better. Maybe it had only been some kind of allergic reaction or so – which was what Patrick considered as the most likely reason by now – and everything would be fine the next day, but he didn’t want to risk any serious illness or fever if it was something else.

He considered whether he should head back to the pizzeria within the next quarter of an hour or just stay with Pete after he had stood up silently –quite involuntarily, to be honest; it had been really comfortable to lie there, cuddled up to the other small young man – and walked towards the attic window for opening it for letting fresh air. The orange light illuminating the room and a view out of the window told him that it was late afternoon. So what should he do now? He really didn’t want to go, but he hadn’t the intention to make a bad impression on his colleagues by simply not returning to work and already leave work for the day. He bent down over his friend and brushed the other’s forehead with his lips before looking for a piece of paper and something, a pencil or a ball-point pen, to write with, for leaving Pete a note that he had gone back to work.  
He found several note pads lying on the desk near the window but most of them had things written in them, pages over pages full of poems or lyrics Patrick guessed after a short glance at one of these pages, but he didn’t dare to read them without Pete’s knowledge. Then he found a thin stack of yellow Post-it notes and also a black ball-point pen under a doodle of what seemed to be a dog with a bat’s wings. He grinned at the drawing and sat down on the desk chair after reassuring himself that there weren’t any other pieces of papers put down there. He scribbled – and hoped that it was legible enough – _“Hi Pete! By the time you’ll read this I’ll be working again and- You’re still sleeping and I really don’t want to disturb your dreams. ... I hope you’ll feel better soon- I’ll come back tomorrow and also bring you some food! In case you should feel worse (which I hope you won’t!), please call the doctor! Get better soon! xo Patrick”_ He held in for a second, quickly skimmed the note and added his own cell phone number at the bottom of the paper. He barely had his cell phone turned on and it lay at home most of the time anyway, but he considered to change that from now on. He realized that he had practically denied any kind of social contact all his life. Phoning people never was something he was comfortable with, nor did he have many reasons for phoning other people or many people to call and... _Who had ever called me in all the nineteen years of my existence anyways?!_ But this was different now and therefore he placed the piece of paper on the nightstand next to Pete’s bed, hoping the other one would notice the bright yellow Post-it when he woke up and went towards the door after having replaced the red hoodie on his friend’s back.

\--


	2. Chapter 2

When Pete had woken up, he had still felt sick to the bone, but much better than after his phone call with his mother the day before. What had actually happened? He remembered having called the pizzeria before his mum had called him up. Yeah- and then Patrick had brought him his pizza, he could still remember the day up to that point. Then the fever must have gotten worse. He knew he had barely been able to walk, trembling and freezing, only seeing everything in a blurred manner and... he had vomited in front of Patrick, who had helped him up the stairs to his room. Nearly vomited. But that was already awkward enough in Pete’s eyes. Oh dear lord, why did he- Dani. That old cookie he had eaten in the morning. Nah, this couldn’t’ve been it. ... That horrible feeling he had gotten soon after having opened the windows in the living room in the morning. ... He thought a little more about this and came to the conclusion that he must have had a bad allergic reaction to something outside there. And then Patrick had helped him to lie down and covered him with his currently favorite hoodie and he had taken a nap. A nap that had lasted about fourteen or fifteen hours at least. Damn it. Had he really slept that long?! ... Well, according to the sound that his tummy had been making every once in a while since he had woken up, he had. He was damn hungry, but when he sat up and tried to stand up, a heavy pounding in both his stomach and his head had pulled him down on the bed faster than he could even do anything against it, and darkness surrounded him for some seconds- or so it seemed. He felt as though he had been knocked out; it probably only was his circulation that hadn’t seen this movement of his coming after all the hours he had stayed in his horizontal position. He didn’t dare walking downstairs for the next two hours, his fear of falling down the dark, wooden stairs was way too big and he didn’t fully trust his own body enough for an experiment of the kind “Pete Wentz alone at home- will he survive walking down the two staircases to the fridge or not?”. 

A short while later, he sat up and caught sight of the Post-it Patrick had left on his nightstand. He read it once, twice and smiled when he noticed the phone number Patrick had added at the bottom of the piece of paper. That was it! He didn’t have to walk down to the kitchen for getting food, he’d just call his dear friend and order something from the pizzeria’s menu. He already knew the phone number by heart.  
Pete called, ordered a plain pizza, a pizza margherita with only tomato sauce and cheese on top of it, a friendly guy called Gino told him the pizza would be delivered soon and Pete sunk deeper into his mattress again. He grabbed the nearest notepad and ball-point pen and began scribbling down some words that came to his mind. He wouldn’t have called it as awesome as some of the stuff that had come to his mind lately ( - if he only had someone who would write the music for him, someone who could make songs out of his mess of words! - ), but it distracted him from everything else around him, even his sickness, until the doorbell called his attention back to the fact that his tummy was still rumbling from hunger. And the fact, that however much he had wanted to avoid getting up in the undefined future, he had to move downstairs somehow and open the door so that he could eat lunch. But he felt sooooo bound to the bed, he really didn’t want to leave it... But then Patrick’s face, Patrick’s cute smile, Patrick with his always alternating headwear, his caps and his trucker hats, Patrick holding out the pizza box so that he could take it, Patrick... _C’mon boy! Do it for Patrick!_ And he stood up and made his way down the stairs. 

Patrick had to have been waiting for him to open the front door for quite some minutes when the black-haired man finally stood in front of him and grinned his usual welcoming grin. He tried his best to show the strawberry blonde man that he felt quite okay by now, but Patrick observed how hard he hard it was for him. Moreover, the black circles around his eyes – although he had had a lot of sleep and no, he also hadn’t put on make-up either – weren’t that supporting when it came to convince anyone of one’s faked good condition. Patrick... why wasn’t he holding the usual pizza box in his hands, one of these white cardboard boxes with the imprinted green, white and red Italian flag and a pizza that was red, as well, on it? _...Maybe something’s wrong...???_ Pete tried to stay casual about this until he knew more about the matter. “Hi Pete!” “Hi Patrick! ... How’re you doing, dude?” He replied. Patrick giggled, and Pete saw that he had been a little tensed, too, and now started to relax. “Man, Pete! I should be the one asking you this question! ...But yeah- I’m quite fine. Had a hard time falling asleep yesterday tough. ... Never mind!” Pete nodded and then tilted his head a little to the right, focusing on the bag his friend was carrying instead of a pizza box.  
“What’s up with this?” He asked, way too curious to hold back this question any longer. And way too hungry. “Well, how about letting me in and finding it out?” Patrick smirked. Pete left him in.

“So- you took a day off ... only for looking after me???” Pete’s jaw dropped involuntarily when Patrick told him about this. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something so sweet for him. He wasn’t that special, was he?! He had plenty of friends and acquaintances, but had never expected any of them caring that much for him that they actually took a day of for coming around when he had only had a fever the last day. _Nor would any of them have brought me to bed and covered me with a blanket or would have done something alike…_  
“Yeah. And as you just asked me about the contents of that plastic bag-“ He nodded towards the bag that he had put on the kitchen table when they had sat down at it. “That’s lunch.” _And what about the pi-_ “I... I- to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t so sure whether you’d stomach this after yesterday and... when I was given the pizza I didn’t directly cycle over here, but brought it home and put it into the freezer for another day. But I’ll pay Donnie for it and bring it along when I come around in some days, I promise!” A fair pink blush spread over the pizza deliverer’s face and he looked down on the floor. “...Oh, okay.” “Sowwy.” _Did he just say sowwy? Aww, man..._ Pete couldn’t but forgive him. Patrick’s adorableness alone would have been enough for ending a war, he was sure of it. “...Wanna know what’s in the bag?” Patrick attempted an impish smile and earned an eager nod from the other. 

Patrick carefully unraveled the knot that he had made into the cloth bag and for a second or two his hands disappeared into the bag’s depths. Then he pulled them back out, something light brown and heavy looking lying on them. Pete blinked. Yeah, this was bread. Damned fresh and tasty looking bread.  
“I made it myself this morning...” The blonde man next to him blushed. How come that he, the boy next door who preferred being humble and not being credited for something “good” he had done, suddenly wanting to let the other one know how much he cared about him?! “Oh.” He really shouldn’t have- “Oh man, this bread looks so damn tasty!” _Oh._ Patrick dropped his gaze and stared at the floor, then at the table cloth and finally looked up again, straight into the pair of dark hazel eyes that were still fixed on him in amazement. “You... You baked bread... for me?” Patrick opened his mouth to answer but only a stammered “Yeah- you know, thought that might be better than pizza... As I didn’t know yet how you were doing when I came here. ...But you seem to enjoy pizza so much-“ “Man, I love pizza! I love _your_ pizzas!” Pete laughed and for some seconds, for the few seconds the following silence lasted, Patrick felt a little awkward and didn’t know what to reply. “...I thought I’d just bring you something similar to pizza... Actually, I made this loaf out of pizza dough this morning and-““This _morning_?!” Patrick felt too embarrassed to look at his friend, but then a hand on his shoulder made him shiver and glance back at him. “That’s so sweet from you, dude, I honestly don’t know- Oh my god, how do I deserve someone like you being my friend?!” Pete grinned at him so brightly, that the other one couldn’t help himself but fixe his gaze on the black-haired man’s mouth and smile back at him, deeply touched by what he had just said.  
A brush over his cheek. Had Pete just... _Had Pete just kissed him on the cheek?!_ But Pete didn’t show any signs that could’ve told him whether or not he had just day-dreamed.

A rumble distracted him from his thoughts and he noticed kind of desirous, pleading gaze he was shot from his right side. “’kay- let’s have lunch then!” Then he became aware of their lack of eating utensils and asked with a little laugh: “Uhm... Shall I get us a bread knife...? Where-“  
“It’s okay, don’t trouble yourself with this now.” He reached out for the box full of tissues in front of them, then changed the direction of his move a little to the left for pulling out two napkins out of the napkin holder he hadn’t thought of at first. His shoulder accidentally touched Patrick’s chest, but he didn’t notice the blonde man’s reaction, that he flinched at the tickle it caused out- and inside of him.  
He unfolded and laid the napkins in front of them and then took a third one and placed the loaf of bread on it. The bread in his hands he exclaimed excitedly “Bon appétit!” and the next thing Patrick remembered was the two of them tearing handfuls of delicious pizza pastry from the loaf by turns and enjoying it enormously.

“You- ... Could you please stay for just one more minute?” Patrick stopped immediately, already in front of the door of Pete’s attic room, and turned around. He had helped Pete upstairs again after nothing but a few crumbs of bread had been left, as Pete had felt a little dizzy after standing up. “Hmmm?” Pete... was staring at him- ... his butt?! Or what the he- “Could you- could you please come here?” Patrick obeyed and stepped closer to the bed where the other man was sitting cross-legged on a tidily folded blanket with at least a hundred of bats printed on it. “Closer!” Pete’s voice didn’t reveal the nervousness he was feeling at the very moment when he took Patrick’s right hand and placed a cold, metallic item in the other man’s palm.  
He looked up, anxiously, for seeing him blinking at the front door key in surprise and puzzlement.

“What- but... You’ll be better soon? Why-?” Patrick didn’t know what to think about this great gesture, this gift, this proof of- “I trust you, Trick. ... You’re like my private pizza deliverer, my human lunchbox! ... I... I need you!” Patrick wanted someone to wake him up _right freaking now_ , or tell him that he had already died and now imagined all this or... But how could he possibly be dead? He felt way too alive. And the key in his hand, the small key that shimmered silver in the light of the room- wasn’t it evidence enough that all this was real? He could feel it, how much it weighted, how it slowly adjusted to his body’s temperature. He could feel Pete’s expectant gaze on him, pushing him to say something in return to this gesture. _Something, say something Patrick!_ But his nerves were damn raw and he only managed to stutter a “Jeez, Pete! I- I’ll take good care of it, yeah? ... You sure man that-“ Pete nodded, and as none of them knew what to add to this, Patrick turned around again after a glance on his watch. “Bye Pete!” “See ya tomorrow, Trick!” Were the last words they exchanged and then Patrick was already walking down the stairs, shutting the front door behind him and thinking about how he would meet Pete again within less than one day. And he wasn’t the only one of the two of them eagerly waiting for the next day to come already. 

 

Patrick didn’t take off the next day, but he didn’t make his usual break in the morning after helping Emilio cleaning the dining area of the pizzeria and antedated his lunch break once more for spending some more time with Pete. He brought him some fresh pizza bread again and had lunch in the Wentz’ kitchen just like they had the day before. Pete told his blonde friend that he had been looking through old stuff in the basement for the first time in ... he couldn’t quite remember _how_ many years and by that had also found an old acoustic guitar. Patrick couldn’t contain his excitement- he loved music and all kinds of musical instruments, no matter whether he could actually play them or not. Pete made a jokingly thoughtful face and asked him in a serious voice whether he’d want to come up with him, up to his attic room where he had brought the guitar after dusting it off.  
“Of course! I’d love to!” Patrick made a kind of jump on his chair and waited for the other one to finish chewing his last piece of bread.

“Soooo! ... Here... is it.” Pete heaved the instrument over a stack of music magazines he had started collecting some years ago and still not found a permanent place for, so that they took away a little space of the floor in the corner where he had placed them a few weeks ago. Now they lay there behind the room door and hindered the acoustic guitar leaned against the wall from falling over.  
Pete handed the guitar to him and raised an eyebrow, curious. “Have you ever played the guitar? Like... do you know some songs you could play on it?” Patrick blushed and nodded. “I... We had a great music teacher for two years who taught us some songs on the school’s instruments and I had chosen an amazing, tan acoustic guitar to be my “companion” for that time. ... Uh... The past two years or so I didn’t really get to play guitar that often... Well...” Pete observed how Patrick scratched his chin, totally sunk into his narration. “Sometimes, when I visited my cousin he would allow me to play some songs but in general... Yeah. ...” This was where he didn’t know what to say anymore and he shrugged a little clueless at Pete, who was still curious about how much Patrick knew about guitars and so asked thereupon: “...What were your favorite songs, Trick? Just curious.”  
Patrick blushed and replied in a timid voice, as though he didn’t know whether the other one shared his taste of music: “I loved playing Michael Jackson’ and also Tom Waits’ stuff a lot and I remember having often played Saves The Day’s “Through Being Cool”.”  
“Dude, that’s epic!” Pete jumped up from the bed where he had settled after having given the guitar to other one and paced past a confused Patrick, who then turned around for seeing Pere rummaging in... _his wardrobe?_ A noise as though something had bumped against wood and a subsequent “Crap! Goddamn!” from half-inside the piece of furniture made him wince in compassion and wonder even more _what the heck_ his friend had all of a sudden been driven by. 

“Ah! Here we go!” Pete turned around and hit his head once again on a board inside the wardrobe due to having forgotten that he had stood bent forward. “Ouch!” he exclaimed, yet grinning like a fool at Patrick. He held up his right hand and there was no way Patrick would have been able to deny being impressed by the vintage, well-preserved bass Pete apparently owned and he had stored in there. However, a question he’d love to have answered was: “Why did you put your bass in your wardrobe-“ He glanced past Pete. “- that is pretty much empty, but not your clothes? ... Or your music magazines?” Pete didn’t know what to say, because he really had never thought of putting his magazines there. And why he had the bass stored inside of his wardrobe? “...Priorities? ... Once a cousin of mine tripped over it when he was around and I was lucky that it wasn’t totaled and I only had to exchange to strings that had ripped. And... yeah- that day I decided I could as well put it there as my wardrobe had never been that full.” He watched the confusion in Patrick’s face fad away and hoped not to have freaked him out too much with his weird self, and the other one asked him: “And? Do you play it often?” Pete made a gesture with his hand that should symbolize that he wasn’t practicing playing it regularly; he was rather a spontaneous player. “Mostly when I’m writing some new lyrics and a suitable melody comes to my mind, you know?” 

He pointed at the bed, asking Patrick whether he didn’t want to take a seat. Patrick sat down and the other one noticed that the light-blue color of his shirt almost melted into his light blue duvet cover. _Oh dear lord, he looked so young, so innocent and sweet sitting there like that!_ “So- you’re actually writing your own songs?” Patrick asked him truly fascinated. Pete shook his head to distract him from the feelings that had just overwhelmed him at the sight of the blonde man and earned a confused gaze. “Uh? ... I mean, yeah, that’s what I do! ... Sorry, I just got a little sidetracked.” _Oh man._  
“Could you maybe... show me some of the songs you’ve written? I’d love to read them!” Pete inwardly started panicking right then- what should be show him? ... what not all too desperate and influenced by his most recent feeling stated _could_ he even show him without looking like a total fool in the end? What-? Then a thought hit him and he calmed down. ... _He’ll understand. He knows me quite well already, he won’t mock me!_ “Okay, of course! ... Wait a second, I’ll just look for one of my better ones...” He started riffling through a red note pad and finally opened it at about the middle.  
He stared at his own handwriting for a long second, remembering the day he had written these slightly scrawly words and for a moment, the memory of what had happened was like a punch into his guts. Nonetheless, he stepped closer to the bed, carefully handed the other man the notepad filled with his innermost part, his heart, his feelings, and when he thought about it, even some of his secrets that he hoped the other one wouldn’t find out about by flipping through the sheets of paper unprompted. But Patrick didn’t do anything alike. He only fixed his haze on the paper in front of him and quietly read about one of the worst days in Pete’s life so far. 

“Dude, that’s...” But he found no way to put “rad”, “damn amazing and lyrically really usable” and what “a pretty awful experience this must have been” into only one sentence. Most of all, he only wanted to hold Pete close and cuddle him. No, he really didn’t think Pete was that kind of guy who would treat someone he loved in a way that lead to the loved ones leaving him. He only knew him for a while, but damn it, he wasn’t _that_ kind of guy. Patrick was sure of it- and he usually directly had the right impression of people when he got to know them first.  
He looked back at the paper on which Pete had tried to find a way to express his feelings – and situation? – with a mess of words, that as a whole were a little confusing, but split up into an upper and lower part were a literary amazing and impressed him deeply. 

If one divided it the way Patrick considered it the most logical, the first part spoke about a bad split up, a friend betraying another with the other’s girlfriend, a lot of desperation and self-doubtful thoughts of the left alone one.  
The second part... 

_“I confess, I messed up...  
Dropping “I’m sorry”s like you’re still around(...)”_

Pete looked at him expectantly (although he didn’t really know what he expected), his head lying on his arms that he had folded over the back of his desk chair, on which he had sat down after having handed the notepad full of lyrics to the other man.  
“...Yeah?”

“Dude-! That’s so... soo... I’m really sorry for having to express myself like that, but... that some serious deep shit that you’ve written there!” Pete smiled at him, relieved and a little proud, as well. “... and must have gone through.” His smile faded a little and Patrick looked at him full of worry and empathy. Pete sighed. “There was such a girl...” He started. “... a girlfriend of mine- Dani. ... But she’s gonna marry soon and... and besides, I’m finally over her now anyway.” Patrick raised an eyebrow, unbelievingly. “You don’t look so... to be honest.” He said quietly. Pete only nodded, shutting his eyes at the weird feeling this confession, this telling someone who didn’t even know half of the happening’s participants about all this gave him and continued. “Well. ...Over _her_ yes, over the pain of being called a jerk several times and being – wrongly – accused of cheating... while she herself already had laid an eye on her new dude... who had actually been a childhood friend of mine I thought I could trust and would not have to expect to take her away from me...” He sighed and felt how Patrick, who had stood up for sitting down on the floor next to his chair, comfortingly patted his back. “Oh man...” “I mean, I started to get her behavior after we talked about all this, up to a certain point. She was scared because she had developed damn deep and kinda irreversible feelings for Luke and they were happy together. So happy that they thought I might not understand them and yeah. So instead of simply telling me that it was over she first tried to distract herself from her conflict with herself. ... It was an awful time, full of weird pretentions pretenses that none of us really understood and to cut it short, it was a pretty awkward and awful time until they finally confessed that to me that they were together now and I probably hadn’t noticed it any earlier because... actually, I don’t know why. They even wanna marry soon- on Valentine’s Day.” His voice’s pace seemed to have sped up as he told Patrick his story, but he switched to “slow and more quiet” when he asked the other, something between jokingly and yet quite serious: “You’d never accuse me of cheating because you found another, better costumer who was much easier to get along with than I am, right?” 

When Patrick didn’t directly reply to him Pete pouted. Thereupon h nudged him into his side and grinned. “Aww, why would I ever have a reason for accusing you of cheating on me, sweetie pout? Moreover... I wouldn’t do this to you either!” Patrick didn’t really understand where his self-confidence came from; maybe it had been just the seriousness in Pete’s voice when he asked him the question that had made him want to assure Pete of his full trust in him. “Bah! ...” “You don’t believe me?!” Patrick asked him, played scandalized.  
Patrick, now standing again, next to the chair Pete still sat on and dangerously hovering above the other, crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You don’t believe me?! Ha? Don’t you trust me anymore? Hmm?! The guy you gave your front door key?” Pete looked up at him and had a presentiment of something being about to happen- he only couldn’t tell yet whether it was something bad or not.

Then the tickling began. First it was only Patrick attacking his stomach with agile fingers and Pete in return twisting under his touch, but eventually Patrick tickled him so much that the other one actually fell off his chair with a dull thud and tried escaping him by crawling rearward towards the bed behind him, having a hard time not to burst out in laughter every time Patrick’s hands came near his chest or belly. “Why me? Why me?” He managed to ask in-between two giggles. “Because you apparently don’t trust me, you small dude!” “You’re a small dude yourself, you know that!” “... Well, I might be smaller than most people of my age-“ He bend over Pete, who by now was lying on the bed and had stretched out his hands for protecting himself from tickles. “But I have my own ways... Of punishing those who underestimate me...” “Hahaha! Ouch, my tummy hurts- Hahaha! Oh man, please- Hahaha!” Patrick grinned at him and continued tackling him, sliding closer to him and not stopping what he did until the bedsprings began squeaking under their movement. The old bed just wasn’t used to some young men bending and fighting in a friendly way on it.

When the creak started to sound too dangerous to continue their tickling session, Patrick halted his hands and rolled a little to the side, so that he was facing the ceiling. He was breathing heavily, but he didn’t mind, because he had had more fun than he ever had in a long time. He then turned his head to the right for checking whether Pete was okay, too, and yelped in surprise when he found the other’s face right in front of him. 

Pete couldn’t help it- he burst out in a loud laughter and had to hold his stomach. When he had calmed down – a little, his heart was still racing wildly – he took a deep breath and exclaimed: “I swear to you, I’ll never give you a reason for doubting your importance to me! Don’t worry, I trust you from the bottom of my heart, yeah?” He blew a strand of his dark hair out of his face and looked at Patrick, who considered whether somehow there was something... suggestive in his glance.  
He stared into the dark hazel eyes that captured his full attention and shivered inwardly; unaware of the fact that Pete felt the same way. He had never had any serious relationship in... well, all his life, to be honest. He had always been that single dude with some friends who seemed to truly like him and respected him for who he was- a polite, but shy boy next door. And now he knew Pete- a guy who loved pizza to death, shared his love for music – even wrote songs on his own! – and had instantly been nice to him. And even more than that- Pete trusted him more that he would have ever thought a stranger would trust him after only a short while. And he trusted the other one likewise. Yet, when Pete all of a sudden leaded a tiny, tiny bit closer, his gaze not fixe on Patrick’s eyes anymore but lower lip instead, he nervously averted his eyes...

... and took a look at his watch. “Oh- oh man, I... I gotta go! ... I’m already about forty minutes late from my lunch break!” He blushed furiously, because even though he was telling the truth, both of them were aware of the situation’s awkwardness. “Sorry!” Patrick hurried to add. “I don’t want to make Donnie and the others angry!” He knew that that would probably not happen so easily, but Pete nodded. “It’s okay. You’ve already taken off so much time only for looking after me... But it was fun today; we should spend more time together soon- when you’re not at work...?” The last sentence was rather a question than a statement, and Patrick agreed a hundred and ten percent. “So... How about tomorrow? We could meet in the morning and then see what we’ll do next?” “Hmm...” Patrick scratched his chin. “On Saturday mornings I usually go jogging, but-“  
“Couldn’t I just come with you...? ... I’m fine again; I don’t think it would do me bad.” Pete asked hopefully. “Yeah, why not?” He got a smile from Patrick and happily slapped his tights before jumping up and pulling Patrick behind. Without that the shy nineteen-year-old could do anything to avoid it, he was already pulled into a gentle hug and breathed in the warm, vanilla smell of his black-haired friend.  
He felt light as a feather for the duration of their hug and even ventured wrapping his arms around the other one in return. No wonder that Pete had only so few clothes, his hoodies must have been already enough for him. _So soft!_ Patrick managed to suppress a happy sigh at the last second.

At some point Patrick really had to leave and after a pitiful “Sorry, I can’t let them wait any longer. There are probably already people waiting for their pizzas to be delivered” the strawberry blonde man made his way to the door. 

 

“Yeah, ‘cause what would Donnie be without you? I mean- all the pizza-ordering people depend on you. Hmm... It should rather be called “Patrick’s Pizzas, don’t you think so?” Pete grinned at his back. Patrick didn’t turn around again, he wouldn’t have known what to reply to this, but a smile bright as the afternoon sun lighted up his face as he left the room.


	3. Chapter 3

When he came to the Wentz’ property the next morning around 7.30 a.m. the lights inside the house were still out and some of the roller shutters down to the window sills. Patrick was happy about having remembered to take the front door key with him and entered the house as quiet as possible. He didn’t want to hurry Pete, so he first went into the kitchen for waiting for him to wake up and shifted to the living room after a while. He only switched on as many lights as he needed and sat down on a dark blue couch with the intention to pull his cap down into his face and take another nap until his friend would come downstairs. Then his gaze met the acoustic guitar Pete must have placed there, leaned against one end of the couch, after he had left yesterday. He hesitantly picked up the instrument- man, it had been a while since he had played the guitar for the last time! He placed it in on his lap and tried to come up with some song’s chords. In the end, he decided to lowly attempt “Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life)” and was amazed how good the instrument sounded. Pete had said he had found it in the basement, so it probably had been lying around there for quite a while. Apparently, he had even tuned it already.

Patrick finished playing the last chords, strummed the D once and the G several times and let the last tone fade away. He rested silent – _wow, this had done him good somehow_ – and listened to his own breath. ... _And Pete’s?!_ He abruptly turned his face to the side for seeing his friend sitting on the edge of the couch next to him where the guitar had leaned only minutes ago, wearing a sweatpants and a red hoodie with a black bat patch on it. He wore a pair of worn out sneakers and held a half-empty bottle of water in his hands. Patrick assumed he had been in the bathroom soon after Patrick had arrived, and he quietly cleared his throat when the other one didn’t seem to move a single bit anytime soon. Pete opened his eyes startled, he had been totally taken in by the song Patrick had just played and the way he had strummed the chords. He was definitely still a little better than Pete, but he didn’t mind. Instead, he only commented excitedly: “Man, you’ve got talent! You should so pick up playing the guitar again! ... Let me just gift you this guitar, yeah?” He jumped up eagerly and said: “And now- let’s go jogging!” Patrick smirked- he simply couldn’t reject the amazing gift and stood up for hugging Pete thankfully before the two of them left the house and went jogging.

Patrick showed the other man his favorite route that morning: past some blocks, through some side streets and a small park, over a small, red bridge and finally, after having jogged for almost three-quarters of an hours in a moderate pace – both for not overstraining Pete and Patrick not wanting to jog any faster anyway, so that they could “have a better look at all the streets and buildings” they passed – and talked a little about negligible topics most of the time, only once getting on to Pete’s lyrics and Patrick’s love for music in general and guitars in particular and considering collaborating for making a song out of the lyrics Pete had shown him the day before, they reached Lake Ave. Only minutes later they jogged around the last corner of the route Patrick had chosen and slowed down as the approached the shore of the large lake that lay there, totally peacefully in the fresh but not so cold anymore spring air. They walked the last hundred meters past the rowing and sailing ships and quietly stopped only a few meters in front of where the small waves broke for listening to their sound and looking out at blue Lake Michigan in front of them, the sunlight shimmering on its blue surface. “Wow.”

\--

 

They spent quite some time – a hour or two, they couldn’t tell – on the beach, enjoying the atmosphere and watching the seagulls flying over the lake in the distance. Around noon they were back at the Wentz’, lounged into the sofa next to each other.  
Pete had never really thought of jogging could be that interesting in the suburban area they lived in, but he was taught better that day and asked Patrick whether he went jogging on Sunday mornings, too – “Sometimes, yeah” -, and whether he could come with him the next day if it was okay for his friend. “That would be sweet! Today was awesome, let’s do this again! Would you like us to take the same route or shall I show you another one of my favorite routes?” “... How about jogging another route tomorrow and... do you have some time in the evenings or after work, too?” “Why are you asking?” “Well... I thought, maybe... if we could... how about jogging along another route every day or every second day... Like...” Pete blushed and lowered his gaze to the floor. “I mean, only if you were okay with this. Because man, I really don’t want to bother you! I kinda fell as though I did and-“ “Oh jeez, please. Don’t feel like a bother. Because you are not!” Patrick smiled at him cutely. “I’ve always thought about jogging more often, but I never found the motivation to go jogging except on weekends... And I’m always happy about having company, especially when it’s someone I get along with so well.” Pete giggled. “Don’t worry then. I bet you wouldn’t have got rid of me so fast anyway!” Patrick thought about their agreement for one more moment and asked: “So when shall I pick you up? Same time as yesterday?” “Yeah, that’s a good idea. In case I’d still be asleep, just let yourself in and feel free to pull me out of my bed, ‘kay?” Patrick let out a laughter and Pete replied: “After all I can sleep again since a while. The nightmares that kept me up all night for months were simply horrible...” Patrick fell silent. _He hadn’t had any idea that..._ “That’s also the reason why I’m at home all day.” He looked aside, past the other. “... My nightmares, especially the ones after my break-up with Dani, the really bad ones, had worn me out so much that I would come late to work on most of the days and my boss threatened to dismiss me if I didn’t come to work more regularly and punctually. But I couldn’t change it; the nightmares didn’t go away and even if I came to work in time I was always damn sleepy or distracted or just... not me, you know? ... I messed up a lot of work, too, and my boss... I don’t know how he knew that I still live at home... called here once and spoke... to my mom... That’s when she said I should take a time off and yeah. That’s why I am at home since about one and a half month. And now don’t you dare disagreeing if I say that almost being fired from a job at the _post office_ is a pretty damn ridiculous thing to achieve, ain’t it?” He sighed resignedly but then winked at Patrick. “At least that made me stay at this place alone until my mom is back from her vacation and hence my dad will venture to come back in here, as well.” “Ugh- that’s an awful story! ... I’m sorry you were tortured by your nightmares that much.” 

“Well, as I said- it gets better. Ever since my dad fled because I incidentally burnt down our stove when I tried to make apfelstrudel... and I started ordering pizza on a daily base...” He grinned cheekily. “Dude, you _burnt down your stove while making a simple apfelstrudel_?!?” Patrick stared at him bewilderedly with wide eyes. “Yeah, haven’t you noticed the black spot in the kitchen ye- oh, I forgot! You have never been in there, right?” His friend nodded slowly. “So you really managed to... Come on, Pete!” Patrick had silently come to a conclusion. He wanted to help the black-haired man. _... Okay, and maybe he was also a little hungry by now..._ He made a gesticulation that told Pete to stand up and follow him. “Let’s go to my place and warm up the pizza I didn’t deliver to you on Thursday. And afterwards, I’ll start “teaching” you how to bake some simple stuff, starting by how to make an apfelstrudel on your own _plus_ how to warm it up correctly.” He grinned in anticipation of the realization of this plan for his day and noticed that he was not the only one...

 

\--

They went jogging every day now, sometimes in the late afternoon, another time on purpose around the time the sun went down behind the lake while they were jogging along its coast, one time at night. On Thursday they sat down together before going outside and Patrick played some chords he had though would work well with the lyrics Pete had written about the end of Dani and his break-up, some melody he thought would sound nice and express the meaning of the words in a suitable way. Pete was nodding with his head almost all the way through what Patrick had so far. He suggested only a few changes that he thought would make the song a little... less depressed and more... optimistic. In some way. He didn’t know what to expect as the final result of their first song written together, but he was looking forward to finding it out. 

On Friday, Pete had for the first time in months no motivation to do anything at all. He woke up, got dressed as slow as he could – he took about five minutes only for putting on a pair of old blue jeans and a white, soft hoodie with two black stripes on it that went across his chest – and after brushing his teeth he went back to his room. He picked up his bass and tried to think of some chords that would go well with the ones Patrick had played for him yesterday, but gave up very soon. He started writing a few lines for a new song but didn’t like the way they came out at all. He laid down on his bed again and felt all comfortable where he was- wearing one of his softest hoodies and his blanket pulled over his legs up to his tummy... but he could not sleep. Not a second.  
He then sat up again; he was too restless to concentrate on anything, on the other hand he also couldn’t he let go and simply relax either. He sighed and opened the little drawer in his nightstand. He didn’t have to search very long and soon he was holding a light rose invitation card in his hands. He stared at it, at the names that hadn’t been printed but carefully written on it in a neat handwriting, at the date and how nice the couple looked on the photo that had been glued inside the card. He sighed repeatedly and then knew what he had to do.  
He couldn’t stand this card any longer- he knew Dani and Luke had only wanted to be nice when they sent him the invitation to their wedding and it wasn’t that the three of them were enemies or not friends at all anymore now. But when he had found the card in his postbox a few days ago – _very recent, right?_ According to his mother some acquaintances of her who were far related to the couple had received their invitation cards much earlier than him, so he guessed he had gotten his invitation due to some kind of last minute decision – had directly put it into the drawer for having it out of his sight, out of mind.  
He took another deep breath- no, he didn’t want to go. He wasn’t that much a fan of marriages anyway, but he just felt that it would be wrong and also feel uncomfortable for both him and the bride and the groom. So he closed his eyes and said his own kind of final “Goodbye” to this chapter of his life and tore the card apart in its middle before throwing it into his big trash can. “That’s it.”

He woke up to the sound of the doorbell. Which confused him, because... well, he hadn’t talked to so many people over the past days, most of his friends were at work around this time, around ten a.m., he hadn’t ordered any pizza yet, nor was he expecting the delivery of some parcel. So who was it?  
He crawled out of his bed and made his way downstairs, quickly making his hair look less messy by using his fingers to somehow comb it. When he opened the door though, he was surprised at who was waiting in front of the two stairs leading up the where he was standing right then.  
“Trick?” He asked, unbelieving. 

There he stood: Patrick with his adorable “I ♥ Bingo” cap, wearing a blue and green striped t-shirt, blue jeans and sneakers, nearly casually holding a picnic hamper in his hands. Before he could ask him any questions – as about why he was here and not at work, why he looked _so damn handsome_ and what the hell the picnic hamper meant – Patrick asked him sweetly: “Please, let’s just go to the park we passed some days ago... That one where that rude man who tried shooing away the ducks was in the end followed by a flock of them?” Pete burst out in laughter at that memory- yes, he could remember that fool all too well. He was not sure of what Patrick had in mind but considered just going with him and finding it out. 

They talked about this and that on their way to the park – Pete about the chords he had thought they could add to their song and that he’d actually love to play his bass more often, Patrick about a new route he wanted to show him the next day – and without having noticed it, they had already arrived at the entrance of the park and Patrick, blushing furiously, yielded to the other. He led the black-haired man to the little lake in the middle of the park without any other comment than a shy “Come on!” and when Pete still wondered when he’d finally get his explanation of what was going on he only pulled out a blanked out of the basket. 

“Come, sit down with me!” Pete raised his eyebrow in confusion but obeyed. Patrick sat vis-à-vis to him, crossed-legged and obviously nervous. His hands where trembling when he started taking out things of the hamper and he felt Pete’s gaze on him a thousand times more intensive than ever before. But he had to do this. He _wanted_ to do this and he knew deep inside his heart that it was the right thing to do. Now. He only had to get rid of his damn shyness and feeling awkward so often. This, too, was a way of fighting them and why not kill two birds with one stone? He noticed how Pete’s pupils widened when he saw the food Patrick had brought. No, it wasn’t pizza for once. It were things like an apparently self-made apple pie or another cake, and all of the tings somehow resembled pizzas- at least in their form.

Patrick took a deep breath, tried calming down and ignoring his incredibly fast beating heart and smiled at Pete who started to take in what was happening. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” 

Patrick didn’t know what he had expected to happen next, but he (for sure) had not expected Pete to hesitantly and maybe just as blushed as Patrick was start searching something in his trouser pocket. He also had not expected it to be some lyrics Pete had been working on recently, only some lines, still unfinished but already dedicated to the nineteen year old as inspiration and recipient of the song.  
“It’s not finished yet, I might have to change it if it actually would work as a song with music and so on… Yeah...” Pete ran his fingers through his hair at the back of his head and stared on the grass around them for a second. He had almost intuitively pocketed the small piece of paper after having written them this very morning after throwing away his wedding invitation, as though he had known it could be a good idea to take them with him.

_“Maybe they won’t find out what I know- you are the last good thing about this part of town.”_

“Awwwww!” Patrick couldn’t help himself but utter this noise of absolute adoration for what he had just read. Then a thought hit him and he realized that these wonderful words were dedicated to _him_ , were written _about him_. And he smiled at Pete, brighter than he had ever smiled before, and literally threw his arms around him- in a little uncomfortable way though, because he didn’t want to squish the food that lay in between them. Pete placed his chin on the other’s shoulder and whispered: “Thank you for helping me over... a lot of things. You can’t imagine how much you did for me, how much of your earning it is that I finally _really_ got over Dani and Luke’s marriage and also my nightmares. They’re finally gone and when I dream at night, I only see you and that makes me feel okay. Thanks for sticking to me, really. Thanks for being my lunchbox, my _damn handsome_ lunchbox. And thank you so incredibly much for spending this day with me!” He moved away from Patrick and shifted a little, so that they still looked into each other’s eyes, but this time without the food in between them. 

“I seem to have a huge crush on anything that is pizza related.” Pete pondered. “...Like these delicious looking, pizza-shaped pies over there, that awesome pizza bread you baked... pizza in general...” He snuck his arm around the other. “And I have an enormously deep crush on a certain pizza deliverer...” 

With these words he pressed a soft kiss on Patrick’s lips and found the kiss being returned within less than a second. Patrick closed his eyes- this was how he had always imagined a perfect kiss, a kiss that was so pure and full of affection that it was simply overwhelming, a kiss that told everyone who saw it that this was true love and nothing else.  
A little girl and a little boy, probably siblings, and their mother passed by and so did other people. None of them seem to be bothered by the two young men, almost looking like boys in their late teens, kissing and deeply looking into each other’s eyes. Patrick felt his last bit of fear melt away- he was free. If he could have and protect what he loved – and he loved Pete more than anything and anyone else, he had understood this in a very short time – he would also be able to face his fears like the one he had felt for whenever he had met some stranger for such a long time. A little girl running past them and after a compared to her giant water ball saw the two of them, sitting on their blanket and holding hands like some freshly fallen in love teenage couple (what was kind of a good description for them, though) and giggled. But not in a mocking way, no. She stopped for a moment when she returned, carrying the huge water ball in her hands, and uttered “You two are so cute” before running back to her friends for continuing playing with them. 

“Could I have another kiss from my favorite pizza deliverer?” Pete winked at Patrick, who sighed a little worried. “Eating pizza a little less often might be better for your health on a long term, though. Please keep this in mind! I only want the best for you, so please promise me to accept the meals your mom makes when she’ll be back, as well- yes?” Pete sighed but nodded. He knew Patrick was right. “But every time I’ll order pizza in the future... it’ll always only be “Patrick’s Pizzas”!”  
“Oh, shut up, Pete!”  
However, there was no real need for these words to be said, because the next moment their lips were already connected again and the apple pie’s taste was in both of their opinion something less sweet to explore than each other’s mouth.

 

**

 

EPILOGUE

 

A clicking sound came from the front door when a key was turned inside the lock. A second later a little sleepy, yet very relaxed looking woman entered the Wentz’ house, carrying two big suitcases. She quickly went into the living room where she placed them behind the couch before heading into the dining room, where she found her man sitting at the kitchen table. He looked up in surprise when he saw her out of the corner of his eye and took a napkin to clean his mouth. He had been munching a piece of the fresh pizza that lay on a unfamiliar looking, huge, white pizza plate in front of him.  
“Honey! You’re back already!” He stood up for hugging her and placing a loving kiss on her lips. “Hi, sweetie!” She smiled at him and he bashfully moved a hand up to scratch the back of his head and for a moment she saw how much alike he and their son sometimes were. “I would have picked you up at the station, but I had no idea that you were already back several hours earlier than planned...” “Don’t worry, honey! It was quite a surprise that our plane arrived so much ahead of schedule that I was able to take like... three trains earlier. Just when I wanted to call you, however, I met Gina on the train and she offered to drive me home as she had her car parked at the station’s parking lot.” “Oh, that’s nice from her!” Her husband smiled. 

“So- and what delicious looking are you-“ She looked up when she heard a noise from her from beside her and turned to see that a new stove had replaced the black, burned down remains of the stove both her husband and her son had told her about a few weeks ago. And there also was a strawberry blonde guy wearing a beige cap in the kitchen who was apparently baking pizza for everyone and glanced up for smiling at her and then placing down the knife he was using for cutting cheese into tiny dices. He washed his hands and dried them with a kitchen towel before he left the kitchen and greeting her politely by shaking her hand and blushing a little. “Hello, Mrs. Wen-“ 

“Trick, Trick! I figured out an awesome way of ending the song now! We could repeat the intro and then end it on a D, letting it fade like this!” Pete bounced into the dining room, waving a piece of paper in his hands and grinning brightly. He stopped for a second when he saw his mother standing next to his dad and his boyfriend and gave her a hug. “Hi, mom!” Then he approached Patrick and poked him into the stomach in a friendly way. “Here, look at this!” He asked the other excitedly. The nineteen-year-old giggled and had a look at the succession of chords Pete had worked on since Patrick had started baking their pizzas and he hadn’t known how to be a help for him. Also, he didn’t want to approach the new stove yet- they had just bought it together with his dad two days ago.  
Patrick gave him a thumb up and smiled. “This is indeed an amazing way of ending the song!”  
Pete’s mother gave her son a questioning look and when he noticed it, he blushed and explained: “Mom, this is Patrick- pizza deliverer from “Patrick’s Pizzeria”-” Patrick nudged him and earned a sly look from Pete. “- _from “Donnie’s Pizzeria”_. He’s our private pizza baker for today and my boyfriend for ever and ever.” He didn’t wait for his mother to reply, only gently gripped totally flushed Patrick’s arm and dragged him into the kitchen. “When are they ready?” He pointed at the stove inside of which two pizzas were already were baked and started smelling like heaven put into food. He seriously thought about asking Donnie whether he had never considered the other one as pizza baker but then abandoned this thought because he needed to have his pizzas delivered by Patrick every time he would order one. 

He pressed a gentle kiss on Patrick’s cheek and picked up some of the diced cheese. _Boy, was he hungry!_ However, he decided to tap his boyfriend on his shoulder and feed him one or two of the small dices and pulled him into a tight hug. Patrick felt how his knees got weak anew when the other kissed him slowly, trying to taste both the cheese he had just eaten and Patrick’s unique flavor.  
Pete’s mother nudged her husband and grinned, utterly happy for the young couple in their kitchen and admiring how adorable they looked together, “Seems as though I missed a lot- at least it seems as though here went on a lot more than for me when I was on vacation...”

Pete wrapped his arms tighter around his boyfriend, his Trick, who was just as small as he was, just perfect the way he was and knew he would never let him go.

_I’ll never have had enough of him!_

 

*** 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this fanfic ^-^ I'd really appreciate if you could give my some feedback on it, what you liked, what could be improved, my writing in general... :D Thanks for reading! ♥

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I hope you liked the first of this story’s three parts so far! ^-^  
> This is the first fanfiction I upload here (I originally uploaded it to dA) and I'd appreciate if you could give me some feedback on it! :D ♥


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